#I MEAN !!!!

[queerdisabledmess]

hey so if anybody needs me I'll be busy spiraling over this for the next 5-7 business days

The comic I did for the @gothamhorrorzine

[cremsie]

Killing nazis is like American tradition and so I think we should legally be allowed to hunt Muskyboy for sport now

[coquettemouse]

Leo getting mad when people don't understand what the fuck he is talking about when the topic is engineering, mechanics and math will never not be funny. I mean his struggle sounds real, he sounds so frustated when it happens, I will never shut up about it bc that's the most autistic shit (I'm not saying that every autistic person do it) he can do. What do you mean you don't understand the same thing I do and isn't obsessed with the same stuff I'm obsessed with. It's not in a "are them being fucking stupid" way but more like a feeling that it should be common sense

I've talked about it before but I will talk about it everytime I remember it

[lovelynim]

Fanfiction

Zenless Zone Zero - Asaba Harumasa (feat. Reader x Harumasa)

A/N: I don't even know where I start to explain the idea behind this one. Well, fanfics are canon in ZZZ and Harumasa is aware his fans write fics for him so... yeah.

Summary: Harumasa is reading a fanfic at work.

Word count: 1844 words

Harumasa sighed, slouching in his chair while the report pages rested empty on top of his desk. There was still about two hours before he could finally clock out and his body simply refused to waste its energy on filling those insufferable documents.

He already had to risk his life fighting ethereals, exploring hollows and doing medical check-ups, why did he also have to worry about explaining how any of those went? Why did it even matter in the first place? They just happened, weren’t the higher ups glad enough that he saved the day?

“Asaba-kun,” a cold, firm female voice came from behind him, making Harumasa jump in his seat and sit back up straight, dragging him from his thoughts back to reality. “Are you making progress with your reports? It would be troublesome to request another deadline extension after a two month delay.”

“D-deputy chief, you scared me!” Harumasa whined softly, his hand pressing flat against his chest while he looked up to Yanagi with puppy-like eyes. “Of course I’m making progress, but it’s just so har-”

“Good,” Yanagi nodded with a smile, giving him a gentle pat on the shoulder, “I’m sure you can make it up for all the reports behind the schedule, Asaba-kun,” she added before walking away to pay some mind to whatever matter was going on with Soukaku and Miyabi.

‘So mean!’, Harumasa thought, how could the deputy chief of all people not even bother to offer him some help with that endless pile of work? He frowned, resting an elbow on top of his desk and his head on top of his hand. Well, there were still two hours, right? He could kill off some time and do that report later…

He reached for his cellphone, which was just by the side of the pile of work he was trying so hard to ignore, and mindlessly moved his thumb around the screen, drawing an arrow and unlocking the device.

Browsing through the interknot shouldn’t be that much of a big deal to most people, but things may get a little interesting when you have an army of restless fans that are chronically online, to say the least. It was still a little hard for him to believe what kind of thing his admirers would do and create: drawings, banners, edits of his fights’ footage with upbeat songs, and even fictional stories… Now that he thought about it, Harumasa was probably the one inside the Section 6 that paid the most attention to these contents: Yanagi usually brushed them off with a polite smile, not even daring to give them a second look; Miyabi didn’t understand the concept behind people’s admiration towards her; and Soukaku only cared about the gifts she could eat.

Still, while being popular could be a little troublesome at times (like when he was trying to sneak out with a certain proxy), having a legion of followers would come handy at boring moments like this. After all, Harumasa knew there would always be something to entertain himself with.

“Masa-masa enthusiasts explain why he is so cute; Check it out!”, “Ten things you didn’t know about Asaba Harumasa!”, “Harumasa caught secret dating?!”, “Harumasa spotted at the Lumina Square! See more pictures here”...

Harumasa rolled his eyes, scrolling past all the posts he deemed dumb. Why was the tag with his name filled with so many weird articles anyway? Where was the good stuff at? He let out a quiet groan, continuing to search for something that actually deserved his attention.

He continued to search, post after post, article after article, photo after photo. After a couple moments digging throughout the interknot, a post from the “Archive of Our Eridu” caught his attention. Finally some good fan made content, Harumasa through, smirking slightly as he clicked the link and opened it.

“‘Harumasa/Reader’, huh..?” He mumbled, shifting in his chair as his eyes moved past the tags, skipping the summary and the author’s notes to finally get to the actual story. 

‘You watch your captive slowly regain his consciousness, his muffled groans barely making past the improvised gag and his limbs’ moving restrained by the tightly tied ropes’- Harumasa arched one eyebrow at the content and its form, remembering one of the fanfic’s tags. 

Right, this should be someone else’s point-of-view, which means… the said ‘captive’ was him? Wait, how was he supposed to read it if he was doing both roles? 

Harumasa frowned, shaking his head. Probably the author never expected him, of all the users in the interknot, to stumble upon this. Still, he should probably just think of ‘reader’ as a different person while reading it, that should make things easier for him to understand and get through the text. 

So, back to it…

It was a straight forward setting. The reader in question was playing the role of some sort of criminal organization’s leader while Harumasa played… well, his own role. For some reason, the author skipped the previous events that led to the current scene - Harumasa assumed that would be too much context - and the first paragraphs described some sort of… interrogation? At least, that’s what it sounded like.

“Heh, am I going to fall in love with the bad guys here..?” Harumasa giggled with the thought, surprisingly amused as the reader threatened and tried to intimidate him. “They are making me sound so stubborn here…”

Harumasa continued to read, flinching when the reader snatched the tape off his lips, imagining how much it would sting, and even unawarely mimicking his reactions described in the story: parted lips, half closed eyes, erratic breathing…

‘We already took care of your colleagues. No one is coming to save you, Asaba, you better speak’, he shifted in his seat at that line. ‘Hah, even better. Do your worst, you’ll get nothing from me’, was he actually this sassy? And what’s up with the attitude? Harumasa shook his head, rolling his eyes at the cliché threats from the reader. Maybe he did set the bar too high for some amateur stor-

‘Pain? Who said anything about hurting you, my dear Asaba? I have my own methods of making you talk’, oh? Was that the beginning of the steamy parts? Harumasa looked around the office, making sure Yanagi was still in her seat before continuing his reading.

Being caught reading this kind of stuff would be even worse than getting caught slacking off. Gladly, Soukaku seemed to be doing an amazing job at keeping the deputy chief busy. 

Alright, time to resume it.

‘What?’. ‘Ah, Asaba… I’ve always been fond of you, I could never bring myself to hurt that pretty face of yours, but… I still need to make you talk, right?’ He could feel his cheeks warming up a little, imagining the scene a bit beyond what was written. 

Ah, this better not be something weird awakening inside him, Harumasa thought.

There was still no action. The story only described how the reader walked around him, wandering in the room and circling the chair he was tied to while explaining to Harumasa the roots of their affection for him. Still, Harumasa couldn’t help but to feel his heart beating a little faster with anticipation - both as the audience and as a form of sympathy towards his character.

The next part had Harumasa leaning more and more on the edge of his seat, going an inch forward with each word read. The description mentioned something like the reader sitting at Harumasa’s lap, popping his shirt’s buttons open one after the other and pushing his shirt away, exposing his bare chest.

‘Get your hands… off me, you f-freak!’. “Why? Are you nervous? Feeling shy? Maybe there is something stuck at the back of your throat? Let me get it out for you’.

Harumasa felt a shiver run up his spine, regretting ever underestimating one of his fan’s work. The description had him wrapped around its finger and even he himself couldn’t figure out what was so good about it - neither what made it sound so awfully hot.

‘You began to drag your fingers around his toned midriff, circling his navel before teasing his sides. You watched Harumasa tense up, sucking in stomach, trying to avoid your touch. You chuckle, fondly, tickling the edge of his waist.’

So this was the torture they had in mind? Tickling? Harumasa looked up, lowering his phone for a moment and contemplating the idea. Unexpected, yes. Unwelcomed? Not sure. He couldn’t really tell if he was ticklish - was there ever a time for him to figure it out?

Of course, the lack of this confirmation didn’t stop this fan, it seemed. He should probably leave a like in their work for the effort - finding a piece of information that Harumasa himself wasn’t aware of. Heh.

But, back to the fanfiction… Why was it making his heart flutter? Or, even better, why was he struck by the imaginary feeling of it?

He could feel a ghost-like sensation roaming his body. Unconsciously hitching his breath, brushing a hand over whatever spot was mentioned to get rid of the phantom feeling and even catching himself smiling at nothing but his own thoughts.

‘Harumasa laugh helplessly under your hands. You dig your finds under his arms, squirming your way past his defenses despite his efforts into clasping his elbows to his torso. He throws his head back and you can’t help but to give his neck a little tease’.

“...w-what kind of freak would be into this stuff?” He groaned quietly, pouting while his cheeks felt warmer than before. Harumasa even lifted his hand - after hesitating a little, for some reason - to rub his neck, trying to shift his attention from the nonexistent sensation.

Stomach, side, neck, ears, thighs, knees, waist, feet, back… even his hands! How many words did that fanfic even have?!

Harumasa crossed his legs before leaning back into the chair, his breathing quickened for some reason. “A-ahm, does anyone mind if I turn on the AC?” Harumasa whined sheepishly, hooking a finger around his collar to loosen it.

“No, go ah- Asaba-kun, are you feeling alright?” Yanagi asked, furrowing her brows slightly with concern. “You actually look sick, do you need me to-”

“I-it’s fine, deputy chief,” Harumasa sighed, wiping a drop of sweat from the side of his face and fanning it with his hand. “Just a little… overwhelmed, I’ll be fine,” he pulled out a forced smile, making Yanagi nod despite the doubt.

He should stop reading these things at work…

Brr, brr.

Wise lifted his head from his pillow, turning around and giving his attention to his phone instead of trying to sleep. Reaching out to it, taking him less than a couple swipes to check the reason behind the noise. 

[A guest left ludos on Harumasa’s Interrogation], read the e-mail. Wise shrugged, placing his phone back on the table. Well, at least something was doing numbers, unlike this commission he was stuck at… but he should be able to do it after a good nap!

[ablockofwood]

PROOOF

[yourbasicqueerie]

spot the difference : part three

[blackmagixsblog]

need to be teased into oblivion honestly

[nanna-mi]

A/N: I just watched season two of Nocturne and it definitely refreshed my obsession with him lol. So here it goes a little thought.

So during a scene he has been asked if he had loved and he responds with something like "uncountable times" and I was thinking of something very Dracula's movie alike, I wouldn't say a soulmate, but someone dear to him from the very begin with, that he is introduced from when he was just a kid on the beginnings and keeps reincarnating and their path keep being crossed in many situation, sometimes for brief moments, and it doesn't matter of he's seeking it or not eventually they always find each other.

Reader would be someone, a human that originally got adopted by Lisa and Dracula, surprisingly, as a kid, and grow with Alucard, before starting traveling and meeting the world (they got a bit biased by Lisa ideas and sought for knowledge and adventures) so eventually their path grow apart, even tho they still hold each closely to heart.

[andie-chr]

“Good for you.” (EDITED!)

A short little excerpt I wrote for The Winter Soldier, or a moment I think could’ve happened in the movie he was first introduced.

— warnings: manipulation, brainwashing, panic attacks. if any of this makes you uncomfortable, please don’t click on this!

The chair was cold. It always was. It bit into his back like steel fangs, locking him into place as the harsh, sterile light illuminated his face. His breaths were shallow, uneven. The edges of his vision blurred with pain, but the memory was there—faint, fleeting, like smoke slipping through his fingers.

A face. Blonde hair. A shield. Steve.

Bucky—no, The Winter Soldier, he corrected himself—stared at the floor as Dreykov’s polished shoes clicked against the concrete. The sound was sharp, purposeful. It filled the suffocating silence between his labored breaths. His hands were right behind his back, face devoid of warmth completely.

“Good. You’re awake,” Dreykov said, his tone crisp and clinical. “Do you remember you place?” Not even a moment after, he’s already telling the scientists to prep him. Wipe. To get him ready for the pain, the electricity, the loss of a conscious.

That was the cruelty of those above you. Do you remember your place? For a second, the soldier didn’t respond. He knew the answer they wanted: I am the Winter Soldier. I am also called The Asset. I have no place outside of a mission.

He blinked against the haze in his mind, searching for something, anything, to anchor himself. That name, it sounded like nickname. The tone. But, it could be an actual name. The Winter Soldier would take it gladly, opposed to the title he has been given. But, he hasn’t known anything else. Taking that name, not knowing what it’s associated with — it’s scary. And it had to show on his face because the soldier felt the atmosphere shift and saw the cruel eyes of everyone around him sharpen like hawks.

“Did you hear me?” Dreykov asks again, taking a step closer. His voice harsher. “You are The Winter Soldier. Your place is nothing else but that. Do you understand?”

The Asset lifted his head, his jaw tight. His voice was hoarse from misuse, but that was the least of his problems and it came out low and raspy. “What if I don’t want that place?” He asked, genuinely. Like a kid asking a parent why they have to clean. “What if…I’m just me?”

Dreykov’s eyes glinted with amusement but his expression remained stern and cold as ice. He tilted his head slightly. “Just you? A man doesn’t have more than 50 kills on his head. But,” The Russian general began, “A soldier knows their mission, and they complete it. A soldier can kill in a war. If someone’s in your way, you crush them. Leave them to die. That is your place, your duty.”

The Winter Soldier’s eyes darkened. His voice dropped, laced with a bitter edge. “Well, I guess if I hesitate more, I won’t be of use. What’s stopping you from crushing me too? Go ahead.” He leaned forward as much as the restraints would allow, his gaze piercing through Dreykov like a blade. “I really wouldn’t mind.”

For a moment, there was complete silence and The Asset registered what he just did. The expression on Dreykov’s face didn’t falter, but the hands behind his back tightened ever so slightly. His gaze turned to steel, and for a moment, a small part of The Winter’s Soldier was worried Dreykov might hit him. He could take it. It probably wouldn’t hurt that much. He’s been shocked, stabbed, shot, waterboarded, and learned quickly people can do far worst things than hurt you physically. It didn’t stop that irrational fear though.

But then he let out a long, exaggerated sigh. “Fine.” Dreykov said, signaling to scientists to with a wave of his hand. “Release him.”

The Asset blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. The scientist hesitated but obeyed nonetheless. The restraints hissed as they unlocked, the weight lifting from The Winter Soldier’s wrists and arms. He didn’t move immediately, warily looking at the restraints come unloose like a caveman who discovered fire. With equal fascination and fear.

“I’ll shut my mouth. I’ll stop protecting you and I’ll let you go,” Dreykov continued, his voice filled with mock benevolence. “Is that good enough for you? Would that be good for you?”

Before the soldier could respond, Dreykov’s hand shot out, gripping The Asset’s chin with cruel precision, forcing him to meet his gaze. The Winter Soldier’s fists clenched, the knuckles of his human arm whitening, but he didn’t move. Couldn’t move.

"I’ll personally deliver you to your precious Captain America." Dreykov glare was dark and cutting as he sneered. "Do you honestly believe he cares for you? The courts, the government—they would tear you to shreds.“

The Asset barely flinched, but the Russian general could see that flicker of fear in his eyes at that possibility. His jaw clenching, and both firsts that trembled so subtly.

He released The Winter Soldier’s chin with a shove, his movements growing more aggressive as he took a step back and spread his arms in mock generosity. "Would that please you, soldier? Because anything The Winter Soldier wants." He offered a mock bow, his tone dripping with disdain and sarcasm.

The soldier’s head began to spin, each word sinking deeper and deeper. They were letting him leave. Dreykov was nowhere near the door, he could just walk out. Without his restraints, he could tear this entire building apart if he wanted. Burn it all to hell, never look back.

But what if — what if they were right? If he left, what then? Who does he have to turn to? Was he just a weapon — an extension of Hydra, incapable of surviving without them? It wasn’t an order he was given, it was a choice. An open door, unarmed guards and a promise of freedom. And that scared The Asset more than anything.

The scientists and the guards voices joined, adding their own comments, agreeing with each other.

“He wouldn’t last a day out there. Does he even know how to function without orders?”

“Who would take you in? The Avengers? They’d see you as a monster, nothing more.”

“No one will love you like we have. No one will put up with your mistakes like we have. You’re a lot of work, you know.”

“You’re clumsy and impulsive. You can’t even get through a mission without guidance. Out there, on your own? You’d never survive.”

“We gave you purposely and stability? Who else would do that? Who else even wants to?”

They’re right. As much as he hated to say, they were right. Who else could care about him? Who else would? He was too much work, he couldn’t even do the simplest task of killing two Avengers. What was he, if not The Winter Soldier? The Asset? At least his work is appreciated here, at least he gets a “well done, soldier.” when someone’s blood is on his hands? Shouldn’t that be enough? Everything grew louder, like an unrelenting storm.

“You’re nothing without us.”

“He’s weak and dependent.”

“You’ll never be anything more than a soldier.”

“All you know is how to destroy.”

“I give him three days. Tops.”

Dreykov leaned over into his space, hands resting on the armrests of the chair. His eyes bore into him behind those glasses, as he said “You don’t have a place in the world. Even if you ever did, you’d never be able to go back.”

The weight of their voices pressed down on him, each word cutting deeper, each accusation twisting like a knife. The Asset’s breaths quickened, his chest heaving as the walls seemed to close in around him. Tears brimmed in his eyes, his throat seemed to close up as everything seemed louder and louder.

No one could care. No one would care.

The faces of his targets flashed before his eyes—so many lives, so much blood on his hands. And then, one face. Blue eyes, soft and full of something he couldn’t name. Bucky. That’s what the man had called him. Was that who he used to be? Was that even real? What if there was nothing for him out there? What if this was all he was?

He shook his head violently, trying to drown out the noise, the memories, the doubts. “STOP!” he screamed, his voice raw, breaking. His head dropped, his shoulders shaking. "Just — just wipe me already.”

The room fell silent for a moment, the echo of his plea hanging in the air. Dreykov’s smile returned, faint and triumphant. He signaled to the scientists, who hurried to restrain Bucky again.

As the chair’s restraints locked into place once more — two on his human arm, one of the bionic one, the familiar hiss of machinery filled the room. The Winter Soldier slumped, his energy drained, his spirit crushed. He opened his mouth to receive the mouth guard, the familiar taste of rubber and plastic sickeningly seemed comforting.

Maybe this time, he thought, they’d erase everything. Maybe this time, he wouldn’t remember. Maybe this time, he’d finally be the Winter Soldier they wanted.

“You’ll understand this very soon.” Dreykov said, and the pain started, the screams were ripped out of his throat before he could stop them but it felt familiar. It had to be better, compared to whatever could happen out there. It’s too late to go back, he knows that. So why even bother?

And mercifully, when it felt like he wasn’t being eaten by electricity anymore — it all went to black.

—

I was listening to “Good For You” in the Dear Evan Hansan musical while I wrote this. I may be too sad, but hey, I love any opportunity to write manipulation and project on a character. Anyways, if you want more of this content, just lemme know!

— andy.

[happyheidi]

𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗅 𝗐𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝗎 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝖺𝗒 ♡

𝗏𝗂𝖺: 𝖾𝗇𝗀𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗁𝗂𝗅𝗅_𝗓𝗈𝗈

[sylveaugust]

Love how HSY's eyes are fucking. Purple.

Reminds me of how I saw a post of Crystal Palace with purple eyes a few hours earlier.

...wait.

I have a new orv/dbda parallel

[daughter-of-sapph0]

[meziniart]

Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves

[tiringwritings]

Behind every gay person is an even gayer, more evil person

[louisetteschuunishenanigans]

So what I'm gathering from this is that in fanfic world, Rule 63, having a child and going to high school are all fates worse than death

In the AO3 Demographics Survey 2024 - an unofficial demographics survey of 16,131 AO3 users - the three most popular genres/tags were Hurt/Comfort, Romance, and Canon Divergence, while the three least popular were Genderswap, High School AU, and Character Death.

To see more analysis, including comparisons to real fic data and previous surveys, please view the full results on AO3.